Rebirth
by li3atinali3
Summary: Sometimes mutations are a lucky draw, sometimes they're bitterly ironic. For Elliot, he couldn't do anything but fall victim to his own body and mind.
1. When you go numb

**WARNING: CONTAINS DRUG USE.  
**Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable.  
Illicit drugs are bad, though. I don't condone the use of them.

**Chapter One  
When you go numb.**

This is no moral story.

Learn, refuse to, scorn, scoff – I really don't care.

After living my life craving for recognition, I learnt that it was the least I should be concerned about.

This is the lesson I had to learn myself.

Not yours.

**xxx**

He woke up. The sunlight blared across his face, heating up his skin with intense summer rays. His eyes watered, he turned over, sat up and shrugged off his t-shirt that clung to his body – covered by a thin layer of sweat.

He had that dream again.

_He was falling or floating, not really sure because he felt nothing, he saw nothing, he could hear nothing._  
It was some stupid reoccurring crazy dream that would have felt like a nightmare, if not for that one line that was repeated throughout.  
_Someone was holding him – he knew it, though he could not tell if it was really there._  
"_I will not let you suffer, I will not let you hurt"_

Elliot rolled his eyes and pushed off his bed, stepping over the piles of books and clothes obstructing the path to his door, and walked five steps to the bathroom.

He swore loudly as he examined his eyes – outlined in yesterday's thick, black eyeliner, and red from his long night out with a few choice intoxicating substances.  
His parents weren't going to like this.

He trudged down stairs, ignoring his younger sister as she called for him to help her with her hair, and slumped into a chair by the dining table, waiting for his mother to see him sitting there.

'I called Lucy last night,' his mother said as she walked into the kitchen, his dad hot at her heels looking somewhat stressed, 'she said she's having problems with the builders again.'

'At least she won't have to worry about Emily…' his dad said, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of orange and mango juice.

'MUMMY!' Isabelle came tearing through the door, holding her hair roughly in her small hands, 'It won't work for me!'

'Come here Izzy,' Maureen crouched behind her daughter and brushed her hair into two short bunches. Elliot watched with a bored expression, wondering if they all realised how insignificant any of their conversations and actions ultimately were. Of course they didn't, how else would they continue their mundane lives?

'Elliot, have you eaten?' Joseph asked Elliot who looked over at his father blankly, who was holding two pieces of toast on a plate – already smothered with rich butter.

'Here, you have this, I don't want you to starve – you're skinny enough as it is,' Joseph placed the plate down in front of his son, reached over to the bench and put a jar of strawberry jam next to it.

Elliot scoffed down his food in twenty-seconds flat, before returning upstairs to get ready.

It was going to be another long, useless day spent in another useless institution designed to control the masses – the education institution that is senior high.

He pulled on a carefully planned outfit of grey and green plaid bondage pants, and a black band tee proclaiming the local obscure goth-punk-black metal band that he and his friends worshipped, even if he did think it was just noise. His dyed blue-black hair covered his naturally light brown, almost dirty blonde hair and clashed with his pale complexion, making him appear more ghostly than normal. He adorned his wrists with his favourite inch long spike cuffs, pulled his bag – also declaring his favourite _non-mainstream_ bands to the rest of the world, and set off for school without saying goodbye.

'Hey Litto!' a deep female voice called as he turned down a quiet street, he looked up and watched as a tall, slightly plump girl dressed in a black short skirt and dark purple corset stomped over to him in her four-inch high, shiny black boots. She fished around in her bag as she walked over, pulling out a little plastic, sealed bag.

'Look what I've got,' she waved the little package around in his face. He grabbed it from her pudgy grip and assessed the contents.

Drugs.

It could be E, but the colours were way too vibrant – they were almost neon. Elliot looked at her questioningly.

'What is it?' he asked, not returning the packet.

'It's like a combination of E and acid… that's why they're so bright, I think.'

'Look Bel, I don't want to be tripping during school, especially on the stuff your brother makes when he's munted,' Elliot shoved the packet back at Belynda who looked slightly dismayed.

'C'mon man,' said a hollow voice from behind Elliot. Elliot jumped, and swore loudly as Maxwell Parkes – also known as Shade to everyone but the teaching faculty and his family – appeared in front of him, swiping the packet from Elliot's hands.

'Freakin' mutant, what are you doing skulking around here, you live closer to school,' Elliot muttered harshly. Shade was the leader of the 'Goth' gang at school, and using his mutation, and the powers of those closest to him, he managed to monopolize the whole underground-teen scene.

'I just wanted to see if you'd take it,' Shade said, fixing his massive neon green and black mohawk in the glass window of an abandoned shop.

'I told Bel, I'm not getting wasted at school,' Elliot snarled.

'Litto, mate, c'mon. You know what that place is right?' Shade looked at him lazily, straightening out his floor length, black PVC coat. Elliot knew where this was going.

'It's an institution designed specifically to stifle us! To box us up and ship us off to tomorrow's law firms and medical practices. They want to stamp our individuality down, they want us to live to serve _them_. This right here,' Shade pulled out a little round neon pink tablet and put it into his own mouth, Belynda doing the same, 'this here, will set us free. It'll show them that we don't care for their ideas for a perfect world. Chaos is perfection, utopia is a lie.'

Elliot knew that once that drug mixed with Shade's system, there'd be no end to his rant unless he took the pill. He sighed, dipped his hand in and popped a little yellow tablet into his mouth, hoping that he wouldn't be too plastered to function today seeing as though he actually enjoyed going to school – he liked to learn, to apply and to solve using his own solutions. He was actually thinking of doing something engineering related once he finished high-school.

'Well done mate,' Shade slapped Elliot's back as they finished walking to school.

**x**

'How long is this meant to take to kick in?' Elliot asked Belynda who was sitting under a large tree looking at the sky. He knew he wouldn't get an answer – she was already there. Shade looked like he was on top of things, though Elliot didn't really want to ask.

Maybe the yellow one was a dud? At least he didn't have to pay for it.

By the time they had arrived, he had already missed first period – his programming elective, which was something he enjoyed on Monday mornings. There were ten of them hanging around by the trees behind the sports shed today – each high off something, but Elliot was still waiting, growing slightly anxious.

'Chase! Come here!' Elliot called a blue-haired boy over who was chatting up one of the other younger alternative girls with what looked like a DIY attempt at dreadlocks on her head.

'What is it man?' Chase swaggered over, with a joint in hand.

'Do you have anything on you? That stuff Bel was handing out did nothing, and I'm not wasting my time _not_ high.'

Chase shoved his hands into his pockets and fished around, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

'Here, take this and leave me alone,' he pushed what felt like pieces of paper into Elliot's hands. Acid, perfect. He took one tab and waited.

Nothing happened.

He took another, thinking that perhaps Chase had been conned, and that there were only a few tabs that actually had anything worthwhile on it.

_No more_.

Elliot froze and looked around.

'Who said that?' he called out, looking at everyone accusingly.

'Dude, my tabs!' Chase gawked at the empty handed Elliot.

'Ah crap!' Elliot fell to the floor, his left leg – foot to knee had gone completely numb.

'What's wrong Litto?' a girl walked over, looking a little stoned.

'I took Bel's crap and like, all of Chase's tabs and nothing is happening, do you have anything?' he asked, rubbing his foot waiting for it to start feeling again. He really didn't know why he wanted the drugs anymore. It wasn't like he needed to escape.

He just wanted them.

_No more._

'What!' His right leg had gone numb up to his knee, like his left. The girl – Samantha – stopped rummaging through her coffin-shaped bag and returned to Elliot, who had begun yelling loudly, clawing at his legs.

'I CAN'T FEEL THEM!' he shouted, scratching and pounding at his legs, trying to stop that crawling numbness from climbing any higher up his body.

_no more._

He couldn't feel anything from below his belly button now. His legs didn't look like his own – they were heavy, foreign objects attached to his waist.

His heart was pounding, and his breathing raced.

'Someone get the nurse!' Samantha yelled out as the group of kids gathered around Elliot. A few ran off and Samantha returned to trying to calm Elliot down.

'Litto, relax… someone's coming. You need to calm down, you're just having a bad trip, that's all,' she repeated over and over, moving her pink fringe from her eyes.

Elliot shook his head. 'I'm not high, none of that worked… no, not high.'

_no more._

'WHO'S SAYING THAT?' he roared at the crowd, who were all looking at him as if he was rabid. Samantha backed away quickly, returning with the nurse.

'He's had a few tabs and ecstasy,' she told the woman who looked at Elliot with an expression of exasperation.

'You friend tells me you can't feel your legs,' the nurse crouched down next to him, 'don't worry, there's an ambulance coming right now.'

'I'm not high!' Elliot tried to tell her, but he may as well have said it in Russian, seeing as though none of them were listening to him anymore. He was having trouble gripping his – those – legs, because his fingertips were losing feeling. It was creeping up his body faster now, and soon enough it had reached his neck when it stopped.

Elliot flopped onto the ground, the nurse catching him just before his head could pummel down.

He looked at his body in fear.

It looked unreal – as though it shouldn't be there, seeing as though he couldn't feel it.

He felt like a floating head.

_no more._

_

* * *

_  
**A/N: **I swear this is an actual mutation/X-Men-esque story! Just let it grow and develop.  
I'm having a lot of fun writing this, I hope you guys aren't too turned off by the drugs and the goth-ness to stop reading.  
OKAY, a few things:  
1. I am making fun of those Goth/Emo/Punk/visually angsty OC's.  
2. There's a story, though.  
3. No more drug use from here on in - and I'll warn you if there will be.  
4. There's really no genre for this story..

This is a little different to what I've done in the past... constructive criticism is definitly welcomed - I'm still in the writing stages so things can be fixed.  
If anyone is interested in being a beta for this project, please don't hesitate... tell me!


	2. Hospital food

**Chapter Two  
Hospital Food.**

'The doctors are saying you almost overdosed Elliot,' his mother said with concern, looking as though she was on the verge of tears. His father was sitting the furthest from his bed; he couldn't look at his son.

Neither of them knew he was doing drugs. Had they done something wrong? Was he really that unhappy?

Both Maureen and Joseph assumed this was just a phase that he'd eventually grow out of, not a phase that would grow into him. It was as if they didn't know their own son anymore.

Elliot still couldn't feel his body, and all the medication the doctors had tried to pump into him to sedate him wasn't working. The only thing that seemed to calm him down was watching his little sister try to do her kindergarten homework on the floor. He was glad the nurses had covered up the body that lay below his neck – it didn't feel like it belonged to him.

He hadn't spoken a word since his parents entered the room from talking to the doctor. He didn't want them to find out he had been up to whenever he'd go out, and now they knew.

Elliot looked over at his father who looked as though he was going to say something, when the door opened, and a new doctor walked in.

'Good afternoon, I'm Doctor Clark, Mr. and Mrs. Carver I presume,' the man nodded towards his parents, before taking and reading through Elliot's chart.

'How are you going Elliot?' the doctor asked, hoping to hear that the numbness had begun to disappear.

'About the same, still feel like a floating head,' he cringed. That probably sounded like he was tripping.

'I see,' the doctor wrote something down quickly, 'this is all very strange. We've never had a case like this before. Your body is functioning normally, as it should be, yet you say you cannot feel anything below your neck… and none of our medication seem to be working.'

'Like the drugs,' said Elliot, his mother shuddering at the word.

'Yes. There is a good chance that whatever's going on in your body that's negating our medicine, it did the same to the drugs. Though, that doesn't explain what's happening to you now.'

'You're saying whatever he took did this to him?' his father finally spoke.

'Right now, we need to take some tests, but that's our best explanation. Normally it'll take a few days for his body to be rid of everything he took, but with our help it should be out of his system in a day – we'll have to go from there.'

Doctor Clark walked over to Elliot, pulled back a sheet and fiddled around with his arm. Elliot didn't realise he had taken blood until the doctor had pulled away with the needle in hand.

The doctor turned to his parents, 'Don't let him sleep for a couple more hours before we find out how what's in his body is reacting, we don't want anything to happen. The lab report should be back by the time your dinner rolls by,' the doctor motioned for his parents to leave the room with him.

Elliot watched as his sister sat looking at her writing, oblivious to what was going on around her, wishing that he had that same sort of naivety right now.

**x**

'Mummy, I'm hungry,' Isabelle finally looked up from her work hours later, startling everyone who were all watching television quietly. Joseph checked his watch.

'Dinner is two doors away,' he said, looking out the door.

'Can you smell that Izzy?' Maureen asked Isabelle who nodded, licking her lips. They had pulled her out of school before recess and she had only had a bag of chips since.

'Smell what?' said Elliot. His parents looked at him in concern as the door opened and their dinner was brought in for them.

'No…' he muttered.

'Darling, are you okay? What's wrong?' Maureen placed held onto her son's hand, knowing he couldn't feel it anyway.

'Bring that food over to me!' he demanded loudly, scaring his mum a little, but she complied and brought over her own meal of curried chicken and rice with vegetables mixed in. Elliot breathed in deeply through his nose, but smelt nothing.

'I can't smell it,' he looked up at his mum, his eyes demanding an explanation.

'Try… try to taste it,' his mum dipped her fork into the creamy curry cream and placed it in his mouth.

Elliot moved the substance around in his mouth, trying desperately to force the flavour to release itself. He could feel the blood drain from his face when he realised that he now couldn't taste or smell a thing.

'I…I can't, mum… what's going on?'

'Joseph, call the doctor,' Maureen looked over at her husband in fear of what was happening to her son.

* * *

**A/N:** Ehh, still feeling a little iffy about this story. I'm taking it in a completely different direction then what I thought as well.  
Ah! I'll keep posting it, though, no matter how awful it gets... Damn this dwindling confidence!

Anyhoo, please review.. I'm keen on hearing opinions with this story.


	3. Cover my eyes

**Chapter Three  
Cover my eyes.**

The next morning, after the nurses had calmed down both Elliot and his family, Doctor Clark visited them again, with news that the drugs should be completely purged from his body, though it made no difference. Elliot was still missing feeling of his body, as well as his sense of taste and smell.

They wheeled his bed through the halls during the later afternoon, the nurses telling him that he was going for a cat scan to see if his condition was due to any neurological damage caused by his past drug use.

His parents watched through the glass from the room adjacent as the nurses loaded their son's limp body into the machine, strapping him in tight – though there was no need, he couldn't feel his limbs to move them around.

'We're expecting to see the least activity around the primary somatic sensory cortex, here,' a new doctor told them, 'it's the area that senses tactile information, things like touch and temperature.'

'Here we go.' The machine started up silently.

'Hmm,' murmured the doctor, as she watched the monitors.

'What is it?' asked Joseph looking at the map of his son's brain with no clue as to what he was meant to be looking at.

'Well, this is where the least amount of activity should be, considering Elliot can't feel his body at all, or anything around him, but according to the scan, activity is as normal.'

'What does that mean?' Maureen asked, watching her son in the machine.

'Your son's brain is registering that he can feel those sheets, the harnesses around him right now…' said the doctor, tapping her pen on the charts Dr. Clark had given her.

'Then how – ' started Maureen, but she was cut off by a loud scream coming from the machine.

The doctor stopped the scan, and the nurses rushed in, pulling Elliot onto the bed they brought in with them.

'I CAN'T SEE!' Elliot screamed out over and over again, working himself up into a fit.

'SOMEONE DO SOMETHING! I CAN'T SEE! WHAT'S HAPPENING?!' he yelled out, trying to figure out what was happening with his body. He knew he was being moved, because – thank God – he could still feel, though only just, through the skin on his head. Something was happening to him.

Something far from normal.

'SOMEONE HELP ME!' he called out again, trying to see through his own memory – pulling vague pictures he could remember from the room. There was the machine, that white machine… and those walls. They were light. What were they? How could he know where he was if he didn't know the colours of the walls? He needed to know. He couldn't _not _know.

'WHAT COLOUR ARE THE WALLS?' he yelled rather rudely.

The nurses looked at each other in concern, but answered anyway knowing why he was asking – he truly could not see.

'They're a light blue colour, painted straight on, no tiles at all.'

Elliot calmed down a little, able to somewhat picture himself amongst the floating shapes and colours that now made up his vision. Black.

It was black.

Blind people see black right? Was that was he could see behind all the shapes? Was that the void that people talk about when you see nothing? Voids are black, right?

They had him back in his room in a matter of minutes, doctors all rushing around him checking his eyes, taking more blood while both he and his family waited for the results in silence.

It wasn't long before the door creaked open and shoes clacked on the bare floors.

'We have the results,' said someone that sounded like Doctor Clark.

'What's going on Doctor? Please, tell us our son will be alright,' Maureen pleaded. It sounded as though she had risen from her chair and walked over.

'His eyes are responding to light as yours and mine would, much similar to Elliot's brain activity when he was being scanned. Physiologically, there is absolutely nothing wrong with him.'

_Elliot._

Elliot stirred. It was that voice again. The same voice he had heard when he lost feeling in his body however long ago that was.

'Who said that?' he asked.

'Who said what, honey? Doctor Clark is in the room, with your father and Izzy,' his mother replied. She sounded as though she was on the other side of the room.

'Someone said my name,' he said.

'No one said your name,' Joseph replied.

Someone walked up to him with heavy, yet careful footsteps.

'Elliot, is there someone else talking to you right now? Someone you don't recognize?' asked the doctor, the closeness of his voice startling Elliot. He suddenly realised how crazy it would sound if he told them that he could hear a voice that none of them could hear.

'No… I… just thought someone said my name, sorry,' Elliot muttered. He hadn't told them that he was slowly losing feeling of the skin around his head, though they knew to keep him propped up in a certain way so that he wouldn't choke on his tongue in case he lost feeling in his neck – which he had, about an hour ago. It didn't matter though; they had placed him on a ventilation machine anyway.

'Am I going to lose my hearing?' Elliot asked, vaguely wondering why no one had come to visit him yet. Some friends they were.

'Well, I'm beginning to think that's up to you,' replied Clark.

'What?' said Elliot snidely. As if this was _his_ fault. As if he could _control_ it.

'All your tests come back with results that are completely normal… we are beginning to think this may be psychological. Have you experienced any great stress or shock? Any building anxiety? I know you are in your junior year, maybe it's been exam pressure?'

'No,' said Elliot hotly.

'Any issues with your friends?'

Elliot huffed.

'I see…'

Elliot listened as the doctor walked back to the other side of the room. They were speaking quietly now, but he strained to listen anyway, wanting any sign that they were there. He didn't know how he could keep up his sanity if he lost his hearing.

It was hard enough right now to maintain a sense of reality when all he could do was listen.

* * *

**A/N: **I feel I should warn you guys, the next few chapters may be a bit, um, weird? I've never written anything like this before, and I've like, really tried! And, on top of that, they were really trippy to write…

See my profile for reason for my absence!


	4. Isolation

**Chapter Four.**

**Isolation.**

He woke up to a quiet morning in the hospital, or at least he began thinking in less of a dream-like manner, and a little more coherently. He couldn't open his eyes – or close them, he wasn't sure what his eye lids were doing, seeing as though he couldn't feel his face anymore. He tried talking, but couldn't make a sound. Was it that he couldn't talk, or that he couldn't hear himself anymore?

Time wore on.

Or he thought it did. It seemed like time wasn't moving at all. No one in the hospital seemed to stir, which was surprising seeing as though he remembered overhearing the doctors talk about the man next door was undergoing some sort of intense heart surgery this morning.

Was it morning? Were there birds outside in the courtyard he had seen through the window yesterday before he lost his sight? Did they sing happily in the mornings to welcome the rising sun?

Maybe it was still night.

Maybe he had only slept a few hours.

Maybe he hadn't actually woken up and this was still a dream – or, maybe he never fell asleep.

What did it matter, though? Whatever semi-conscious state he was in, he was completely stuck. Elliot tried to concentrate on waking up; on what the room his body laid within looked like. He concentrated on his body and moving its limbs, but it brought nothing. Nothing changed.

How long had he been lying like this?

Was he lying? He remembered he was lying yesterday. In fact, they had him sitting upright with his head tilted in a particular direction so he wouldn't swallow his tongue, or choke on his saliva.

So, he must still be lying down.

Even though it didn't feel like he was.

It was like he was floating.

Or falling, without feeling the wind.

He tried to keep himself preoccupied as time disappeared around him, being neither fast nor slow, remembering his friends, his music, his culture – only to grow more and more distasteful of how each image only stirred a feeling of anger or resentment towards one person, object or act in any way.

Had he allowed himself to become this angry without realizing?

He was never an angry person, though. The only reason why he hung out with those guys was because he thought he could relate to them more. He was always clinging to the fringes of social circles at school – not too sure who he was, or who he wanted to be – found them and decided they were cool.

But they had grown so different from him. Sure he could act the part, but did he want to keep playing?

He didn't know how long it was before he forgot what it was like to truly feel something soft – physically and emotionally.

All he knew was a hard, coarse world that he brought upon himself.

It wasn't his parents.

He wasn't abused.

No deaths.

Nothing.

Here he was, thinking for the first time in a long while, only because he was forced to. He was trapped by his own body – he couldn't even really be certain where he was now anyway.

Was he still in the hospital, lying on the bed?

How could he still be attached to the world now that he couldn't feel his own body?

How could he still be attached to reality now that he couldn't sense it?

'Maybe I've died,' he thought to himself.

It seemed logical.

'Maybe my body was deteriorating, and I've died.'

'No.'

'The doctors said I was fine.'

'Maybe I'm making it up?'

_maybe you can really feel things._

'Maybe if I thought about reconnecting, I could.'

_but you've tried that._

'It didn't work.'

_maybe…_

'Maybe it isn't me.'

Elliot only realized that he was communicating. It was that voice again, but now it sounded familiar. Not the faint echo that he heard before, but a full voice that would belong to a human body, coming from a real voice box using actual air.

'Who are you?'

_i could ask the same thing._

'I am Elliot Carver. Who are you?'

_i am Elliot Carver. who are you?_

'Don't be stupid,' Elliot pictured himself rolling his eyes. He couldn't be hearing voices, let alone talk to them – he wasn't crazy.

_you're not crazy, I can see that._

'I have to be. I'm hearing voices.'

_maybe you're the voice?_

'You aren't real.'

_i could ask you to prove that, but you're missing five crucial points._

Elliot couldn't answer.

_yes. how do you remember control now that you don't have it? you've been missing it a week and that was when we could count the days._

'I must be mad if I'm talking to imaginary voices.'

_i'm hurt._

'Go away.'

_you'll be stuck if I do._

'Are you doing this to me?'

'If you are, stop it!'

'Oh, so now you shut up. Thanks.'

_you needed help. you called, i came._

'No I didn't.'

_i am your defense. i set you apart from everyone else by keeping you safe._

'Yes, I certainly feel as though no bodily harm can come by me now that I'm practically comatose.'

_i made it so you cannot harm your body._

'The drugs?'

_the doctor was right. it is psychological._

'I'm crazy?'

_no. it runs deeper. _

Images of Shade flashed across his mind, filling him with feelings of rage. How could he have completely forgotten about Elliot? They were all meant to stick together in a world that was cruel and completely deranged.

_you're missing the point._

'Then just tell me!'

_mutant._

The word echoed all around him.

'Fix it.'

_no._


	5. Battle Plans

**Chapter Five  
Battle Plans.**

He had gone two weeks without his senses, though he didn't know it. It felt like nothing has passed at all. There was no indication of change happening around him.

After his first conversation with the Voice, it had disappeared for a while, only coming returning to soothe him back from the brink of madness.

To reassure him that everything will be alright.

Elliot had long given up trying to piece together images to reform memories whilst everything felt like it was on an endless loop. It was too hard to force creative thought anymore, he would just grab onto whatever drifted around.

Occasionally the Voice would come back, speaking of lessons to be learned, but it only seemed to Elliot that it was humoring him. What was the lesson? That he lived a crappy life that he put himself in? That he pushed everyone that actually cared for him away?

That wasn't hard to figure out.

It was getting harder for him to think of anything that made sense. He wasn't in his own head anymore – he had drifted off somewhere new. He had given himself a new body that he felt like he was growing into – the Voice even had one, one that reminded Elliot of that carcass of a body he didn't belong to anymore.  
Though, the ease of his creation of a new body left Elliot feeling restless.  
Did that mean that everything before this time was just a figment of his imagination? Was this true reality? Had he simply made the transition from dream to reality, and all around him was the truth?  
Everything before must have been a lucid dream, because it was becoming more and more impossible to imagine that he would inflict such misery upon himself in real life.

He liked it here, better then in his life-dream as he liked to call it. It was peaceful and silent – but it was a silence he found, rather then one this Voice created.

'You aren't allowed here,' Elliot declared suddenly.

He was hiding in a large fortress, high up in one of the towers. Down below were hundreds of soldiers in purple suits ready to take the Voice on.

He had made a safe zone.

Battle tactics began to plague his thoughts.

He thought obsessively over it, checking each plan to make sure it was fool-proof, before discarding it and rebuilding his fortress all over again.

'Come out you fool!' he yelled out, waiting what seemed like forever and a second at once for the Voice to respond.

'Ah! I knew you wouldn't show yourself!' Elliot cackled.

_i don't need to._

'Don't hide you sad, sad fiend!' he said, flailing his sword around wildly.

_i'm right here, beside you._

'Liar!' Elliot turned around to face an odd looking boy.

_i've decided it's time_, it said without moving its mouth.

'Time for what!' Elliot demanded, growing impatient.

_time to end this_, it gestured toward Elliot.

'No!' Elliot backed away.

'You wanted me to be safe! Now I am! I'm safe here!'

_i… realise I was wrong,_ it looked sad.

'No!'

_we all make mistakes. i will ease you through the transition, i will help you reconnect._

'Reconnect where?'

_what do you mean, 'where?'_ the boy took a step closer, looking confused now.

'Where are you taking me!' Elliot asked, looking around wildly. He ruled this land; this little boy couldn't take him anywhere he didn't know.

_back…to your body. _

'I am in my body you fool! Now stop moving closer or I will be forced to destroy you!'

_no… it can't be… _

The boy walked closer to Elliot, sliding through the sword as if it were made of nothing at all.

_please Elliot, don't hate me._

The world around Elliot was filled with intense bright lights assaulting him from every direction. His skin prickled until it felt like it was on fire. His eyes watered and his ears throbbed. He felt his stomach wretch as new smells attacked his nose all at once.

His body began to spasm violently as he struggled against the sensory overload, trying to understand what each of these things that were hurting him was.


	6. Lost Touch

**Chapter Six  
Lost Touch.**

No one could understand it at first, but it slowly began to make sense. Doctor Clark was beside himself with annoyance that he hadn't checked it at first. This was a phenomenon that couldn't be explained in exact medical terms, this boy – no, this creature huddled in the corner of his shower under the luke-warm water – had suffered at the hands of a newly manifested mutation.

He had awoken after two weeks of complete sensory deprivation and had completely lost touch with reality. Though, surprisingly, there was something still inside his head that kept him from sinking into total madness altogether.

After they had calmed him down, no thanks to a rather generous dosage of morphine, they found that he was reluctant to engage in his environment. He sat stock still on his bed, with his eyes shut tightly, only moving to react violently to noises made around him.

Though, something seemed to click in the boy – either he was becoming more aware of his surroundings, or curiosity of his seemingly foreign environment had set in.

On the third day after having 'awoken', for he wasn't really sleeping, he was closer to being in a sort of coma, he started exploring his room.

Everything was so light.

It was hard to believe that such strange surfaces, textures and colours could exist and be real. Like this pillow. It looked so solid and heavy, yet when he placed his hand or head on it, he would sink right through! It was so soft!

He couldn't believe it.

So he carried his pillow around everywhere he walked.

The hospital was so large, but it felt so flat, as though it was a background that moved around him as he went room to room like in an old cartoon. It was so cold and dead.

He knew what everything around him was – its name, its function, how it should feel – yet it felt like something as intricate as a clock or as simple as a can of air-freshener that sat at the nurse's station seemed impossible to create, except in one's own imagination.

The only explanation he could come up with was that he was back in his dream – the only place where all these things around him could exist. He had woken temporarily, and now he was back asleep.

No one seemed to care that he was a mutant either.

To them, he was a glitch in the mutant code – a manifestation that worked to destroy him, even though it purged his body completely clean of any mind-altering substances.

On top of that, it was hard for Joan – Elliot's psychiatrist – to imagine how Elliot managed to survive those two weeks, completely deprived of any sensory stimulation, when even in the most controlled experiments, those experiencing not anywhere near the total deprivation Elliot suffered through only managed forty-eight hours before they started losing grip.

'Elliot?' she said tentatively, worried that she may be talking too loud.

He pointed to himself and nodded, his eyes unfocused – as if he were listening elsewhere.

'Elliot, do you know where you are?' she asked.

He looked around.

It was a medium-sized room, different to all the other patient and staff rooms in the hospital. He said it was nice. It smelled friendly, it was warm and the slightly cool breeze from the opened window made his skin tingle. He looked at his arm – goose bumps – and ran his hand over it. How strange!

'Elliot?'

The woman was asking him a question, and he had answered it without making a sound. How could she not understand? He was back in his living-dream, so she should know his thoughts because she _is_ his thoughts.

_she can't hear your thoughts. talk to her._

Elliot opened his mouth for the first time in weeks, took in a deep gulp of air, marveling at how the coolness rushed down his throat and filled his lungs – inflating him.

'I'm in your office,' he said, now feeling particularly deflated. He breathed in again.

Joan smiled; he remembered how to talk. He hadn't regressed back to infancy as most of the doctors had assumed.

'Do you know who I am?'

'Joan Baker. You're a psychiatrist, you think I'm crazy,' he replied blandly.

'I don't think you're crazy. I think that in order for you to have made it through what you experienced, you must be pretty strong.'

'All I did was wake up.'

Joan frowned slightly. 'Before you woke up. What I mean is when you were deprived of all your senses.'

'Yes, I woke up.'

Joan reached for her table, and pulled a pad of paper down. 'You don't mind if I jot a few things down, do you?'

Elliot shook his head.

'Does that mean you aren't awake right now?' she asked, studying her patient closely.

'I suppose, yes.'

Elliot leaned back on the sofa, feeling the creases of the hard leather under his hands. Such a queer material. And it was made from cows! How could he have thought such a use of those animals!

_focus Elliot. you need to remember that you are awake, or else you couldn't feel such things in such vivid ways._

He shook his head, his shoulders twitched. He leant forward and placed his hands on the table that separated him from the doctor. It was there. It was real.

_yes, if you feel it, it is real._

'I spoke to Doctor Clark, Elliot, he says that they ran a test and they found that you are a mutant,' she said, 'they said it was that which helped you pull through. Is that what you listen to?'

'It speaks to me, and helps me see,' he said, pulling his hands back onto his lap.

'But it did this to you,' she noted, writing a few words down. Elliot nodded.

'I don't think It knew what it was doing, really. It wants to help me now, but It can't forgive itself.'

'Is it talking to you now?' she asked, growing slightly concerned. This boy was treating the voice in his head as if it were its own entity. Even for a mutant this did not seem normal – but she had heard of it happening once before; a voice having its own personality within a mutant.

'No, It only talks when I forget where I am,' he said, his shoulders twitching again.

**xxx**

Joan sat at her desk later on that night, staring at Elliot Carver's file that lay strewn across the mahogany surface. She knew she couldn't help this boy – she could name the problem and she could prescribe medication, but if it was a mutation related problem, she wasn't sure if what she could do would actually help.

Usually patients who suffer this extreme degree of derealisation would end up on medication and then institutionalized – they were a danger to themselves. Mix in hearing voices that need to remind them of their current position in the real world, and they'd be locked away safely indefinitely.

She wished she could connect everything in his mind for him, to try and undo the trauma he had face blindly so he wouldn't end up in a place like that, but she didn't know how.

Though, there could be one place he could be sent.

Her sister's son and daughter were sent there last summer – only those close to her would know why.

She picked up her phone, paused and dialed the number, holding her breath until her sister answered.

'Jane?'

'_Hello, Joan, is that you?'_

'Yeah, it's me…Jane, I need a favour,' Joan whispered into the phone.

'Anything!'

'Where did you send William and Sarah?' she asked quickly. There was a long pause before Jane answered, quoting a phone number and the name of the school.

* * *

**A/N:** Whoa, sorry this is taking me so long! This is probably one of the longest chapters... or the start of longer ones. Haha.  
Hope people are still reading and enjoying! C:


	7. Home, sweet home

**Chapter Seven  
Home, sweet home.**

Both Joan and the other doctors that looked after Elliot while he was in hospital agreed that after spending a month cooped up within its walls, he needed to go home. Joan and Dr. Clark had told his parents that this was a mutation induced sense deprivation, and that they could do little to help him whilst he was being told what's what by a separate entity in his head – which they put down as another product of his mutation.

Joan had called the school and spoke to a woman named Ororo Munro, the headmistress now that the founder had disappeared. They agreed to give the boy some time to settle back into a normal routine before they pulled him out and had him become familiar with a whole new environment. And, apparently the staff were in the middle of acquiring an additional member to the teaching team who may be able to help Elliot – if she agreed to join the school.

_remember this place?_

It was where he lived.

Yes, he did remember it, except that small front garden that sat underneath two large windows.

'Was that always there?' he asked his mum as he walked over, careful not to crush any of the flowers that seemed to pulsate with colourful, radiant life.

'Yes dear, you probably didn't pay much attention to it before,' Maureen replied, placing her hand on Elliot's shoulder.

'It's really very nice,' he said, looking at it over his shoulder as they walked down the driveway.

When they entered the house, Maureen and Joseph watched their son expectantly, as if he would wake from this aloof stupor and everything would return to normal. Neither really knew what to deal with – the drugs, his hospitalization, the fact that their son had another voice in his head, or that he was a mutant. The only person who seemed unfazed was their daughter, Isabelle, but then again, big issues never really worried her to begin with.

Elliot walked up their stairs, his right hand trailing on the cool wood, catching every bump and crevice in its surface; his left hand dragging along the wall. It seemed right enough – strong and sturdy. He passed his sister's room – it was surprisingly bare for a bedroom. He stood at the door, staring blankly into the room, trying to imagine his little sister playing with her dolls in such an empty room, not noticing as she squeezed in past him and unloaded her books onto her little desk.

'Elliot?'

He blinked, walked in, and sat on her small pink rug. Isabelle sat down in front of him and peered at him peculiarly before leaning over and hugging him.

'You still need him,' she whispered as she hugged her brother, who wouldn't move. 'He's so very sorry.'

'It hurt me,' said Elliot, shaking Isabelle's grip from his shoulders as he stood, leaving the room without so much as a backwards glance.

His own bedroom was just as he remembered. Dark, dank and sad - every corner reeked of melancholy and misery. The singers and artists that covered every inch of his walls all looked down at him with a scowl of utter contempt, his wardrobe spilled out its black innards of torn, meshed and leathered material. Elliot walked over to it, carefully avoiding the pile of dark clothing as if it were poisonous and spotted some relatively _normal_ clothing at the back. His eyes continued to survey his room, until the fell onto bed-side table.

There was a little red box sitting next to his lamp. Something stirred within him. He knew what it was; he had just forgotten it was there. Elliot walked over to it and reached out to touch it, but before he could reach it, out of nowhere, his vision suddenly brightened – everything blanching to a strong white and continued until he pulled his hand away.

_sorry._

'I wasn't going to take them,' he grunted, 'I won't be able to clean if you keep doing that.' Though the Voice kept quiet. Elliot knew it still didn't trust his judgment, he could feel its constant uneasiness – as if it were on guard all the time. Elliot hated it – he had no control whatsoever over this mutation he apparently had. He hated having no control.

'Elliot?' a woman called up the stairs. He didn't recognize it straight away until he walked out and looked over the banister. His mother was looking at him with undecided concern, but cheered up a little as he walked down the stairs.

'You have a visitor,' she smiled, relieved when Elliot showed some reaction to the news – even if it was shock.

He walked into the lounge room to see a pair of light blue, jean clad legs poking out from the bottom of a rather large card.

'Hello?' he said, not daring to walk closer.

'Oh! Sorry!' he said, jumping up and thrusting the card at Elliot looking rather flustered. It wasn't any of the guys from his group at school – rather a kid from his programming class. They would speak in class, but never outside.

'It's alright,' said Elliot looking at the card signed by everyone from the class. 'Thanks.'

'Sorry we didn't uh, visit you while you were…in uh, hospital,' the boy mumbled. Elliot searched all over the card for his little message.

'Yeah, I couldn't think of anything to write, so I offered to uh, deliver it…' he said sheepishly, watching Elliot's flickering eyes.

'Thanks Rhys,' said Elliot watching as the blonde boy visibly calmed down.

'So, uh… are you all better now?'

Elliot shrugged, feigning interest in the card.

'Oh, I see… well, if you need anything, you know…' Rhys shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what else to say.

'Um… did you want… to help me clean my room?' Elliot asked without really thinking on it.

'What, I meant… is that there are certain things in there I can't touch…' Elliot tried to explain, kicking himself for sounding like a weirdo. The corners of Rhys' mouth twitched into a slight grin.

'Ah,, don't worry.'

'No, it's alright. I'll help out.'

Elliot knew the Voice would feel somewhat uneasy about this, but he resisted the urge to tell it off in front of another person, even thought It made no sound of protest at all.

'Whoa.'

Elliot watched as Rhys looked around the room that felt so toxic.

'You sleep in here?' Rhys scoffed, looking at the bed with the token black sheets he expected to see. Elliot shrugged – he too, found that hard to believe.

The first thing they did was pull down the heavy curtains that hung on his wall to find a rather large, dusty window that looked like it had been untouched for years. They wrenched it open and threw the curtains out, a trail of dust falling down with it. Before they could start sneezing, they dumped most of his Gothic clothing out of the window as well.

'Must've been serious for you to want a full cleanout,' Rhys said once they had finished, lying on the floor. Elliot watched as he wiped sweat from his forehead with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He was so… alive.

'No one told you?' he asked, sitting on his bed still watching the boy as he sat up and leant on the desk opposite.

'Oh, no, everyone knows what happened,' he said, avoiding Elliot's curious stare. 'As soon as she could that Belynda girl told everyone. Said you lost feeling in your body before they carted you off to the hospital,' Rhys said trying to hide his interest. Elliot could see he wanted to know more, and he waited for the Voice to tell him to stop talking but nothing came. For the first time in a long while, It was quite. He couldn't even feel It. Rhys was a sincere boy; Elliot felt he could trust him, even if he really didn't care if people found out about him, so he told him everything – minus the Voice and the mutation.

'So… you just lost all feeling?' Rhys asked, trying to get to grips with the nightmarish story he was just told. He looked at Elliot in amazement – from what he knew about sensory deprivation, as Elliot had described it, he should have lost his mind altogether.

Elliot hadn't realised how cathartic it would have felt, sharing what he had gone through with another person that wasn't stuck in his head. His parents were scared the whole way through, and his sister acted like nothing was wrong. Rhys was astounded.

Suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable, Elliot opted to change the subject, asking about school and whether he had missed anything important in his absence.

'We had an assignment for programming that you missed out on, but teach gave you a pass cause your grades have been high all year. Nothing too hard in math – I reckon you could do it through a weekend… physics, that might be a little hard,' Rhys recounted, eying the little red box.

'You're in my math and physics class?' asked Elliot, completely surprised. Rhys nodded, standing up and stretched.

'Should we keep going, or finish up?'

Elliot cast a quick glance at his book shelf that held a small safe.

'Any bets what's in there?' he said with a grin, feeling the most connected to the world in a month.


	8. Hearing aid

**Chapter Eight  
Hearing aid.**

He had to go back to school, and it scared him more than ever. He had seen Joan once more that week who had pressed that he needed to get back to stimulating his mind so that he would be able to increase his mental processes back to a normal, healthy rate. Though, he knew he was fine. The Voice said there was nothing wrong with his thinking – but of course the psychiatrist couldn't hear that. Elliot knew he didn't make it any better, seeing as though he never bothered trying to prove that she was wrong, hoping that by making himself appear that couldn't comprehend anything, he wouldn't ever have to go back.

His first day back was a Tuesday, which was normally the day where he and his friends would ditch half the day to hang out at the back of the sports sheds, getting up to a number of crazy shenanigans. Elliot didn't want anything to do with them anymore, not their fashion, their trends, their music or their attitudes. He couldn't be around so many people that pushed away life and embraced total the same nothingness he had suffered through.

He trudged to school wearing a pair of grey jeans and a collared black shirt. It was the simplest outfit he could find after he and Rhys cleared out his wardrobe. It was also the only thing without either a band or a pentagram printed on it. Rhys had also cut his hair, and though it was a clumsy attempt that resulted in a combination of frustration and amusement from his mother, it didn't look half bad if he gelled it a certain way. He walked through the gate, hand trailing on the cool metal, and almost instantly he could feel them staring at him. Elliot glanced over, but they were sitting a distance from him, so they looked too much like a backdrop from some lame teenage movie for him to care too much.

Though he knew it'd be only a matter of time until –

'Hey Litto.' It was that girl that had made an attempt to help him when his body started going numb. He wasn't used to being called that, and for a moment he was confused.

_  
it's you_, the Voice reminded him, trying to piece together memories for Elliot to recognize. Sometimes it felt as if It was controlling Elliot far too much – moments like that made It regret putting him through so much just to protect him. Maybe that one pill would have been fine. Maybe Elliot would have realised what destructive path he was heading down on his own…

Elliot turned to face the girl, who had bleached the pink out of her bangs, leaving a thick silvery-white block hanging in her face. He observed as she attempt to subtly check out his choice of wardrobe before she stepped up to him and reached to touch his hair.

'You cut it?' she whispered close to his face. Elliot shivered and back out of her reach, eyes flicking straight to the others who had stood up and wandered over to him, Shade leading in his usual black. In fact, as Elliot watched them walk over, he forgot why he ever took such a group seriously. They were a moving black mass – like a dark cloud that would never, ever break apart or fade away – and so completely useless on their own.

'Good to see you're out,' said Shade, patting Elliot on his back. Elliot shifted slightly, making it clear that he wanted to leave.

'Look man, I'm sorry we didn't come 'round to visit… but you know… the drugs,' he said, but Elliot could see through his concern, if there was any to begin with. Shade was a shell that covered disgusting fantasies and his addictions – there wasn't room for anything more.

'Yeah, it's alright,' Elliot replied vaguely. He had been looking at these people far too long, and it began to feel as though they were flickering in and out of existence right before his eyes. He had to fight against the urge to touch their faces to make sure they really were there.

'So, the guys and I were thinking, maybe we'll give you something, as thanks for not doing us in, then and now,' Shade watched as Belynda walked over to Elliot with a large red box in her hand.

'No, it's alright,' Elliot refused, backing away slightly.

'Look man, just take it,' Shade said sternly, watching Elliot carefully.

He tried to move back, but there were more behind him. Shade was trying to blackmail Elliot into never telling anyone about the drugs by giving him more that would definitely be used as means to incriminate him if Elliot ever wanted to say anything. He could feel the Voice's presence shift in his mind, and he backed away faster.

'We're going to be easy on you, we know you've only just gotten out of hospital… but don't test my patience,' said Shade walking up to Elliot who was now trapped between Shade and a wall of spikes and mesh.

'Please… no,' Elliot mumbled, concentrating more now on the Voice which was talking rather loudly in his head, ordering Elliot to get away before It did anything.

'Bel!' Shade called over. She walked over and pushed the metal box into Elliot's hands.

'Here Litto, my brother says they're his best…' she stared at him, urging him to take it from her, but he had frozen.

_too close… too close, it'll hurt you. she'll hurt you, they will all hurt you._

The Voice was so loud now that he didn't notice how hard Belynda was pushing the box into his hand.

_not again. no, not again. i won't let it!,_ the Voice roared so loudly, Elliot screamed back.

'SHUT UP!' he yelled, shoving the box back into Belynda who shrieked as she fell to the ground from the force of his push.

There was a loud screech that filled Elliot's ears that subsided within moments, as he stumbled from the force he had pushed onto the box.

'_Oh my god, did you hear that? Someone just screamed!'_

'_It was probably the Goths. They're so high all the time…'_

'_Haha, yeah, one of them probably caught a look at their reflection in the nearest shiny object…'_

'_Haha! Oh my god, yeah! One probably looked at that Shade's guy hair and saw a perfect reflection of themselves!'_

Laughter, lots of laughter.

All around him. Everywhere.

Elliot pulled his hands to his ears, crouching over, breathing heavily trying to push the sound from him, urging the Voice to do something about it, but gave up the moment Belynda realised what had happened.

'Oh my god. OH MY GOD! I CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING! SOMEONE! WHAT'S HAPPENED! OH MY GOD!' she screamed loudly, clawing and pulling at her ears. The teens around them backed away wearily from Belynda who was screaming hysterically, while Elliot took advantage of the diversion and ran off, trying to get as far away from the noise as possible.

* * *

**A/N:** Woo! Another update! Thanks to everyone who has added this to their fave, are following the story and have reviewed!


	9. Bathroom stall confessions

**Chapter Nine  
Bathroom stall confessions.**

He sat in a cubicle in the boy's bathroom, rocking unintentionally, his hands still covering his ears – trying desperately to convince the Voice to fix the problem. He could still hear Belynda screaming, and Shade describing to a teacher how Elliot had pushed her down. Someone was being asked to call an ambulance and to notify her parents. Though, it wasn't as loud as it was. The initial shock of having the volume turned up had died down somewhat, and though he could still hear what was going on with Belynda, he couldn't hear anything else any further.

The Voice had stopped shouting, and to Elliot it felt like it was deliberating on something.

'Please just fix it! I know it was you!' Elliot pleaded rather loudly.

Outside, he could hear someone stop pacing and start walking towards the entrance to the bathroom. Elliot held his breath as the footsteps echoed through the bathroom.

'Is there anyone in here?' a boy called. Elliot sighed – it was Rhys.

He slid out from the cubicle and looked at the sandy-haired boy looking ashamed.

'Elliot! Everyone's been looking for you!'

Elliot cringed – Rhys might have been talking normally, but it sounded like he was shouting right in his ear.

'Could you… whisper?' Elliot said quietly.

'Huh? What? Why?' Rhys walked closer to Elliot, examining his stressed features, 'what's going on Elliot?'

Elliot slumped – how could explain this without looking like a freak. Belynda lost her hearing, and his own increased… but it was only a strange coincidence? He strained to listen to the Voice for any advice or words to speak, but It had once again, deserted him.

'How's Belynda?' Elliot asked, trying to steer the conversation away.

'She's waiting in the sick bay for someone to come pick her up. She's still completely deaf,' Rhys answered; a little frustrated that Elliot hadn't answered his questions.

'I need to go see her.'

'She's not going to be able to hear a word you say to her…' Rhys began.

'That's okay, I don't want to talk to her… I think I… I can fix this,' Elliot muttered, walking out of the restrooms, still covering his ears.

**x**

'The nurse looks like she's not leaving… I could get her away if you wanted me to,' Rhys whispered after having peeked into the room.

'Thanks,' said Elliot, who remained hidden around the corner, down an empty hall, while Rhys walked into the room.

'_Excuse me miss? Another student is saying he can't hear anything…_'

'_What? Another one!? Where?_'

'_Just outside, behind the sports shed…'_

Sounds of fast footsteps echoed down the opposite halls as the nurse ran out of the room in a huff.

Rhys stood at the doorway with a mischievous grin as Elliot slunk in.

'She looks like she's gone mad,' commented Rhys as Elliot walked over to the bed. Belynda was resting, almost as if she were asleep. Elliot poked her, and her eyes shot open, scanning the room – the two boys included.

'You!' she gasped as she registered that it was Elliot who had poked her, 'you did this to me!'

Elliot backed away before she could pounce and beat him to a bloody pulp. He looked at Rhys who had been searching through the nurse's desk while he struggled – he had now finished writing on a pad of paper and walked over to the now slightly calmed Belynda, handing it to her.

'I'm pretty certain I know what's going on here, and you owe me big time,' said Rhys as he watched Belynda lie back down on the bed and close her eyes.

'Go, do whatever it is you need to,' Rhys crossed his arms and sat in a chair still watching them with intense curiosity.

Elliot walked over to Belynda and placed his hands over her ears, trying to force the Voice into action.

But it was as if It wasn't there at all.

He concentrated now, instead on stirring the Voice, but rather, channeling all that he could hear down through his ears, down his arms, into his hands, his fingertips and back into her own body. With some great effort, and after going purple from concentration, he began to feel the volume in his own ears decrease.

'Say something!' he called out to Rhys.

'What do you want me to say?' he replied.

'Anything, just keep talking!'

Elliot listened as Rhys spoke about absolutely nothing, trying to see when to stop channeling what he had taken from Belynda back into her, without making himself deaf – seeing as though the Voice didn't seem too bothered to help him out.

He pulled his hands from Belynda and looked at her.

'I think that's it…' he said, glad that he didn't have to whisper.

'Yeah, and I'm thinking we should go…' Rhys pulled on Elliot's arm and dragged him out of the room, moments before the nurse returned clearly annoyed at the false alarm.

**x**

'She's going to tell everyone,' said Elliot, nervously pacing around an empty classroom they had taken refuge in.

Rhys had been busy looking outside the windows, watching as Belynda was walked out of the school and loaded into an ambulance, with her parents watching anxiously.

'It's kind of funny seeing how normal her parents are,' he snorted.

'Aren't you listening to me?!' Elliot stopped walking and stole a glance out the window. They were pretty average looking…

'Yeah, I heard you,' Rhys turned around, sitting on the floor out of the view of the window inviting Elliot to do so too, 'that is a pretty crazy mutation you've got there.'

'That's beside the point… she will tell _everyone_,' said Elliot growing more and more frustrated with Rhys.

'No, she won't. I told her that what you had is still in you, and it is contagious and that you could fix it,' Rhys said, looking hard at Elliot.

'Are you kidding me? I mean, she's not the smartest girl around, but c'mon man, anyone would see through that!' Elliot said, his voice rising.

'No, trust me… she'll believe it,' he said, trying to look for a change in Elliot's angry expression.

'Oh, because you can what… convince her that on a piece of paper?'

'Just… trust me, alright? She was in an impressionable state, so she would've believed whatever made the most sense,' said Rhys who had slid across the floor, closer to Elliot.

'Right now, I suggest you just do the same, alright?'

'Why?' Elliot asked, feeling his anxiety grow and, at the same time, feeling more and more detached. He grasped at the chairs, trying to steady his breath and focus his mind to recognize the world around him as being _there_, in front of him.

'We can't hide in here forever, we need to go out there…' Rhys began.

'What!?' Elliot gasped – he couldn't just walk out to those people. They'll find out and they'll make the Voice come out again, and who knows what It'd do this time.

Rhys grabbed Elliot's wrists and looked Elliot right in the eye. 'They'll suspect you even more if you don't go out. It will be alright, just calm down…'

Elliot closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of Rhys' warm fingers wrapped around his own wrists, the sensation pulling him back out of the safety zone in his mind, and back to reality. Elliot nodded and let Rhys help him up and out of the room.

* * *

**A/N:** OH MY GOSH! I'm SO sorry this update took so damn long! Eeeee! Forgive me?


	10. Offers

**Chapter Ten.  
Offers.**

Both Dr. Clark and Joan were waiting nervously outside, talking to both the Principal and his parents as Elliot and Rhys entered the yard.

While they were still hidden from the panicked crowd, Rhys stopped.

'I'm going to let go of you now, okay?'

Elliot was momentarily stunned. He hadn't realised that Rhys was still holding his wrists, but he agreed wordlessly, dropping his arms down by his side.

Elliot walked out first, his parents catching sight of him and rushing over – his mother hugging her son close, his dad casting a glance at the medium-height boy appearing from the corner after Elliot.

'That young lady seems convinced that what you have is contagious. I don't doubt that you two concocted that story, but it's not a bad one,' Dr. Clark walked over to them, the psychiatrist at his heel.

'However, your parents, Joan and I have spoken to your Principal, and Elliot, we believe it is in your best interests to pull you out of the public education sector and introduce, uh, home-schooling,' said the doctor, looking at his parents who both nodded. Elliot – who had managed to pry himself out of his mum's arms – looked towards Rhys, but he was busy talking to the Principal.

'We will be around tomorrow afternoon with the necessary information,' Dr. Clark looked at Elliot who seemed to be staring at nothing and shook his head. Never had he failed a patient like this – yes, he had seen death, but he knew that in each of those cases, he had worked for the patient's health to the very end. In the case of Elliot Carver, there was nothing he could do. The hospital was ill equipped for such a case.

As his parents led him to the car, Rhys ran over and pulled Elliot aside, panting slightly from the run.

'The Principal says that they're saying whatever you have is contagious, so they're home-schooling you, is this true?'

'Yeah, it is. I don't think I mind too much, though,' Elliot glanced over to where the alternative kids hung out; Rhys nodded, understanding what he meant.

'I'll come 'round tomorrow, alright?' Rhys offered, hoping Elliot would accept, but met with a slight shrug as he turned around and caught up with his parents.

**xxx**

'You've done it again!' said Elliot, pacing around his room the next morning. He had fallen asleep still in that sort of hypnotized trance – the moment Rhys had let go of his wrists; he had lost his grip on the world around him and had fallen back into his own mind.

_i had to keep you safe,_ the Voice replied, _you know that whatever i do, it's always to keep you from harm._

'And what do you think would happen to me if people found out what I am? What would they do if they found out about _you_,' Elliot snarled, stopping his pacing as his phone vibrated on his desk. He eyed it carefully; ever since he got out of hospital he had avoided using the phone and computer as a means of communication – it disconnected him too much when he couldn't see the recipient to his conversation.

'Am I allowed to answer that, or will you get rid of my sigh?' he hissed, grabbing his phone and reading the text message. He walked over to his window and opened it, before returning to his own, one-sided argument with the Voice.

'Why do you disappear when Rhys comes around, by the way?' he asked, inspired by the message. It wasn't that Elliot didn't like it when the Voice left; he was just quite confused, because there was a difference when the Voice was just being quiet, and when It wasn't there at all.

_i don't know,_ It replied somewhat coolly.

'Is it because you don't like him?'

_i couldn't even recognize him._

'You haven't seen him?'

_no._

There was a sound of a struggle outside his window, as a young boy flopped into Elliot's room, landing sprawled on the floor. Elliot laughed as Rhys attempted to untangle himself dignifiedly from the mess of clothing and books that lay beneath the window.

'Thanks man,' Rhys muttered, pulling a jumper off his arm.

'S'oright. Why couldn't you use the door?' Elliot asked, picking up some of the mess and moving it away

'Your dad wouldn't let me in,' Rhys mumbled, sitting on Elliot's desk.

'What did he say?' Elliot asked, sitting on his bed, opposite Rhys.

'Said you were sleeping, and slammed the door in my face,' Rhys shrugged, picking up Elliot's phone and played with it in his hands.

'So what's going on?' he asked, putting the phone down.

'My parents, those doctors from yesterday and this other teacher are downstairs talking about the future of my education,' Elliot sighed, leaning back against the wall.

'No, not that… yesterday, what was that all about?' Rhys leant forward.

'I thought you already knew I was a mutant,' Elliot raised an eyebrow.

'Yeah, that wasn't hard to figure out… but what can you _do_?'

Elliot thought for a moment before replying – he wanted to put a name to it, like others could do for their own mutations; telekinesis, invisibility, invulnerability…

'Sensory deprivation,' he stated.

'Like what happened to you?' asked Rhys, 'like what you did to Gothasaurus?'

'Yeah, except that was the first time my powers weren't being used against me,' replied Elliot, feeling a little uncomfortable now – they were slowly heading to the topic of the Voice, and he really didn't want to have to talk about it.

'What do you mean?' Rhys asked, but before Elliot could begin to think of an answer, there was a knock and his door opened.

'Elliot?' Maureen asked, her eyes flickering between Rhys and Elliot.

'Hmm?' Elliot jumped off his bed and stood between his mum and Rhys in an attempt to conceal his friend.

'You're needed downstairs,' his mother said, still looking at Rhys, 'I think your friend should stay up here.'

Elliot followed his mother down the stairs and into the small living room where a number of people were sitting. He saw his father, and recognized the two doctors, though there was a dark-skinned woman with short, white hair, sitting alone on a sofa.

As he entered, she stood and shook his hand, looking at him curiously, yet calmly.

'Ororo Munro,' she said as Elliot took seat between his mum and dad.

'Elliot,' Dr. Clark began, leaning forward with difficulty – he was cramped between the arm rest and Joan, 'I think it's clear that there are slight dangers posed when you are around certain individuals,' he began, but Elliot wasn't paying much attention. He knew they wanted him home schooled, and he didn't mind – as long as he wasn't near those other people.

'But, we felt that although you need your education, there are, uh, some other, uh… areas that you may need to focus on,' the doctor said, his entwined fingers resting on his lap.

'What Dr. Clark is trying to say is,' the woman cut in, helping the doctor say what needed to be said, 'is that, you may need some help coping with your gift – the sort of help that only others like you can give,' she said, smiling warmly.

Satisfied that he wasn't putting up an argument against it, she continued.

'I am headmistress of a school, dedicated not only to education, but also to helping young mutants control and develop their gifts, and we feel – myself and those around you – that you would greatly benefit from such an environment.'

'So, I'm not going to be home schooled?' Elliot asked.

'It's up to you honey,' his mother cooed.

'We aren't asking you to decide right now, we will let you have some time, it is a difficult decision, though, it would be preferable if you decided before your exams,' Ororo Munro said, standing up gracefully, with the two doctors following suit. Elliot nodded, struggling to imagine what was happening to him as a _gift_.

Up in his room, Rhys flicked through one of Elliot's books wondering what could be taking so long; it was only a conversation about having a private teacher. Maybe they couldn't find someone who knew the difference between the many different computer programming languages? Rhys laughed to himself.

The door swung open slightly and Elliot wandered in, sitting down on the edge of his bed with a surprised expression.

'What's happening?' Rhys asked, putting the book aside and looking up at Elliot who was rubbing his knees looking at Rhys in disbelief.

'Some woman asked if I wanted to go to some school out of state,' Elliot blinked, 'a school for the _gifted_.'

Rhys looked at Elliot blankly and raised his eyebrows.

'What like, you're really smart?'

'No…wait,' Elliot stopped, and a grin broke across his face, '_apart_ from that, it's some school for people uh, like me.'

Rhys' bemused expression fell. 'You mean the whole Belynda thing?'

'Yeah, she called it a gift…' Elliot said, shrugging, 'she said they can help me control it there.'

'Are you going?' Rhys asked, standing up abruptly.

'I don't know yet. Probably a good idea to, though. Right?' Elliot watched Rhys carefully, wondering why he looked so agitated.

'Wonderful!' Rhys threw his hands up in the air and stormed out of Elliot's room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for taking forever, again.  
This story is slowly coming towards a close, and I'm still stuck.  
I might end up rewriting the entire ending because it's a bit of a let-down... So it might take a bit longer.

Thanks to everyone who has stuck through it though! And hello to _Rebirth_'s new followers!


	11. Train Ride

**Chapter 11  
Train rides.**

It was decided – Elliot was to go to this school to try and figure himself out. The Voice didn't seem too fond of the idea, not when it had established a relatively safe zone right where Elliot lived, but Elliot knew that regardless of whether he went all comatose or not, his parents understood enough to transport him there. He needed it.

Rhys seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth in the week it took for Elliot and his parents to get everything sorted so he could make the transition easily – which included another discussion (though, over the phone) with the headmistress of the school. She assured them that her staff were fully able to aid Elliot through not only his academic studies – which he had to continue – but also, to study his mutation. He hadn't realised how much he depended on having Rhys near by to mute the Voice he carried in his head until that week. He could barely touch any of his old belongings that carried even a faint memory of his life before his mutation attacked me without losing the feel of his fingers for an hour.

'Mum? Dad?' Elliot called, dragging his suitcase down the stairs, cringing each time the bag hit the stairs with a loud thud. His dad rushed over and picked the bag up and placed it next to the door; his mum looked over the couch from tying Isabelle's shoelaces.

'Can I go… on my own?' he asked, avoiding their eyes. He knew his mum's face would fall and that she'd start tearing up.

'I checked… I can get a train and then a bus.'

'Is this what you really want Elliot?' Joseph asked, leaning against the front door looking almost defeated as his son nodded.

'We'll drive you to the station then, alright?' Maureen asked, pushing Isabelle towards the door.

As his parents helped him load his bags into the car, Elliot tried for the last time to contact Rhys – only to hear his voicemail once again.

'Look, I'm leaving. I'm getting a train if you decide to stop sulking for whatever reason. Bye,' he said, hanging up and following his family out to the car.

**x**

After a short and silent car ride, they arrived at the near empty train station and the whole family walked down to the platform.

Five minutes.

'We expect letters and phone calls from you!' his mum sniffed, hugging Elliot for the millionth time.

'I'll be back for next break,' he gasped, trying to appease her. The wind started to pick up as the train began to draw nearer, and he looked back to his family. This was it. After everything he had put them through, after everything they had gone through _with_ him, he was leaving.

'Elliot!' someone called just as the train stopped and the doors swooshed open. Joseph drew in a quick breath as Rhys bounded over looking somewhat flustered. Elliot peeked his head out of the door and watched Rhys stop a few feet from his family looking a little disappointed. Maureen walked over to the boy and pushed him towards the train, nodding – Joseph looked less then pleased but shrugged.

'I'm…I'm sorry man,' Rhys mumbled as he walked in.

'Explain yourself after I say goodbye to my family,' Elliot said, waving as the doors closed and the train began to move.

'What happened?' Elliot asked after he had shoved his luggage into a compartment and they sat down facing one another. Rhys shrugged, looking out the window.

'You're kidding me. You start to apologise and then you refuse to talk? Maybe you should go,' Elliot started, getting ready to leave the seat himself.

'No, it's weird… that's why,' Rhys said, finally looking at Elliot.

'I'm waiting.'

With a sigh, Rhys started, 'That place you're going to… Xavier's? It's just that, I never…heard a word from them, and… well, I was jealous.'

'Why would you… wait, you're _like me_?' Elliot blinked and stared at Rhys.

'I'm a mutant, if that's what you mean. Not a very powerful one, but I can calm people and that makes them…highly suggestible. That's how I got Belynda off your back.'

'They'll have to let you stay now,' Elliot smirked.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so I've completely lost all inspiration for this story. I had to really force this chapter out of me. I'm gonna leave it like this for a while, if not for ever. Hope you guys enjoyed it! (I estimate that there was only going to be 1-2 more chapters left anyway…)


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